Basking in Puppyville
by pearls1990
Summary: What happens when Mrs. Hudson asks our two flat-mates to puppy-sit?   Bad title is bad.
1. Chapter 1

This is my first attempt at a fan-fiction for the BBC series 'Sherlock'. I'm gonna put it out there right now that everyone is probably OOC. I am also going to admit that they were speaking in accents in my head as I was writing this, so if the dialogue seems stiff, that would be why! Er...yeah...

I have no beta-reader, so if there are any glaring mistakes, please let me know. I am open to criticism as long as it is constructive.

I have just recently watched the first three episodes through Netflix and they are brilliant! I'm very sad that I can't watch the next three until they come out on Netflix. : (

Oh, and this might have two more parts...gotta show them interacting with the puppy!

**Edit- 01/17/12: A reviewer pointed out that I was using their last names to each other, when in the show they refer to each other by their first names. It's one of the modern twists the genius writers of 'Sherlock' put in their show. It's funny because in the last chapter I made sure I was doing that, but I completely spaced it out here on the first. If you guys see any more glaring errors, please point them out! Like I said, no Beta, and I'm open to constructive criticism! Thanks Rose! **

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><p>"Oh good," Mrs. Hudson's voice rang through the quiet room as Sherlock and I looked up at her when she peeked her head in. "You two are home. I have a request, if you don't mind."<p>

"Oh, what is it?" I stood and set my book down on the side table and Sherlock merely raised his eyebrow. It was a rare, quiet evening, and my flat-mate was preoccupied momentarily with the Sudoku he had found in the evening paper.

"I...well...er..." Mrs. Hudson started fidgeting.

"Mrs. Hudson," Sherlock started as he set the newspaper in his lap. "You may as well bring the carrier from behind your back; it's much too large of an item for you to conceal it there."

She looked wide-eyed at the dark-haired man for a brief moment, then sighed and hunched her shoulders, as if defeated. I glanced irritably at Sherlock, then turned my attention back to Mrs. Hudson. I opened my mouth to say something, but should have known better to start.

"You have an English Foxhound in there," Sherlock continued, his elbows now rested on the arms of the chair and his fingertips together. It was a gesture I was growing familiar with, and one he used when contemplating deeply on something. "It is a pup. Maybe scared, maybe subdued from some sedative. It is slightly dehydrated, possibly from the trip from the countryside, possibly from the sedative. The dehydration does not however come from mistreatment. That pup was loved very much where ever it came from." He smirked then went on reading his paper again.

I turned back to Mrs. Hudson, gesturing for her to set the carrier down.

"I'm not sure how you do that Sherlock, but it is still amazing." She stated as she set the carrier down.

"Yes well," My flatmate started as he flicked his paper and folded it. He proceeded to tap his head. "This is what pays the bills, Mrs. Hudson. What was the request you needed fulfilled?"

I had almost forgotten that she had made a request.

"If it's not too much trouble, I would ask that little Phoenix stay here for a couple days while my sister vacations." She sniffed. I suspected she was slightly uncomfortable in asking and I gave her a warm smile as I bent to peer into the carrier. The warmest and saddest pair of brown eyes met mine through the thin bars of the carrier door.

"Yes, we'll keep him." I said as I stood.

"No, shan't." Sherlock said at the same time I did.

I turned and made an irritated noise in his direction. He was leaning forward in his chair, his elbows now on his knees and his fingers touching his lips. He only moved his gray eyes to meet mine.

"We can't have a dog here, John." He stated matter-of-factually. "We are never home, and when we are, we are too preoccupied with our own matters that the creature would be neglected. No, we cannot have a dog."

I pursed my lips. On the one hand, Sherlock was right. He was always right.

On the other hand...

"Gentleman, please!" Mrs. Hudson's voice echoed throughout the room. I raised my eyebrows at her. "I'm only asking for a week at the most."

"Why can't you watch him, Mrs. Hudson?" I asked.

She smiled and played with the hem on her sleeve.

"She is going on vacation." Sherlock finally stood and approached us, then bent and I assumed he was just going to look into the carrier. I turned my attention to our landlady.

"Mrs. Hudson, are you really going on vacation?"

A small flush carried up through her features.

"Ah, well, I need one. I haven't been on vacation in so long."

"Were you not going to tell us?"

"Well I-"

"She is vacationing with the gentleman that has been around here doing odd jobs for a month. You guys are going to South France if I'm not mistaken."

Mrs. Hudson and I turned to look at Sherlock. I had to put my hand over my mouth as to not laugh out loud. He had the Foxhound pup, Phoenix, in his arms and it was licking his face. I wasn't going to question what had transpired in his brain to make him do a complete 360 for this pup. That would require instruments that haven't been invented yet and a team of psychiatrists that I couldn't afford.

"Ah, er, yes, Sherlock," I could see Mrs. Hudson was having a hard time holding her giggles as she looked every where but at Holmes. "How did you know the South of France?"

"The French perfume you are wearing and the pastries that you have been baking." Sherlock's face remained stoic as Phoenix suddenly yawned and rested his head on the man's shoulder. He cleared his throat and shuffled his feet. "Yes, well, John, I believe we will need some puppy kibble for our new flatmate."

I merely smirked and scratched my head as Mrs. Hudson showered us with gratitude. She mentioned that she had some puppy kibble in her room as she grabbed the carrier and started to walk out of our flat, when Sherlock, with Phoenix sleeping in his lap, called from his chair:

"Mrs. Hudson, we are out of milk. Do you have any milk?"


	2. Chapter 2

****I really didn't mean for this to take such a depressing turn, but it's the way my writing goes. There also really isn't any plot point to this, except maybe to prove to myself that I can write for other fandoms!

I haven't seen all of 'A Scandal in Belgravia'. I've seen a good portion, just not the last 30 minutes or so. I hope you can forgive me for any inaccuracies or out-of-character characters!

I also have no beta-reader, which means I am open to criticism, as long as it is constructive!

Enjoy!

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><p>The next morning, I was awoken with a sensation I hadn't felt since I was a kid - a raspy puppy tongue licking at my face. There were worse ways to wake up, I thought as I chuckled at Phoenix and pushed him gently off of me. He sat at the end of my bed, wagging his tail and panting. I wiped my face off and tossed the covers to the side and tucked my feet into my slippers and grabbed my robe from the chair as I walked out of my room. I heard Phoenix's little puppy paws clicking on the wood floor behind me as I went into the bathroom. I know now the meaning of puppy dog eyes, because he was looking at me with the biggest, brown eyes I had ever seen as I walked out of the bathroom.<p>

"What's the matter fella?" I said as I knelt and scratched him behind both ears. "You hungry?"

He just sat there, panting and wagging his tail happily.

I straightened and he followed me down the stairs.

"Oh good, you're up." Sherlock's long body was draped across the couch and his robe hung carelessly off his arms, which were bent as his hands were touching his chin in deep thought. At least he had on boxers and a t-shirt. I groaned inwardly. The last time he never got dressed, he ended up at Buckingham Palace wrapped in a sheet. "Phoenix needs to be walked."

The puppy barked.

I ran my hand through my hair. "Well, why didn't you walk him?"

I regretted the words the instant they were out of my mouth.

"Dull," He grunted.

XXX

I should have known the London fog had settled in. I have noticed that Sherlock's moods coincide with the fog. I can't say that I blame him at all. The fog has a way of putting a damper on things. After descending the stairs, I couldn't help but notice Mrs. Hudson's friend across the street, pacing and talking on the phone very loudly. When I arrived back, after Phoenix had done his business, I noticed the friend was now standing in front of the sandwich shop, staring in the window. I had inadvertently caught his eye as he gave a tense smile and I nodded once.

I put the incident out of my mind, thinking that he was probably waiting for Mrs. Hudson.

Sherlock was crouched on his favorite chair, staring intently at the laptop that was set precariously in front of him. I noticed that he had finally showered and dressed. I pondered what had prompted that when his voice rang through the flat.

"Quiet, I'm thinking! John you make too much noise when you stare at me."

I simply blinked and shook my head and went on to feed Phoenix.

A half an hour later, he clapped his hands and exclaimed something that I'll never understand. Phoenix barked at him and Sherlock apologized to the pup, which surprised me. I was about to ask if he wanted me to come with him, but he was out of the door before I could get the words out. I looked over at Phoenix and he yawned and fell back asleep. I chuckled, and went back to reading the paper.

Sherlock arrived back at the flat late that afternoon, a non-descript paper bag in hand, and a look of determination on his face.

"We're going to have to buy Mrs. Hudson some new dishes." He stated.

"Um...okay?" I closed my laptop before he could read what I was writing in my blog.

"I'm going to end up reading that anyway." He said as he walked past me into our tiny kitchen when I heard him stop. "Where is Phoenix?"

"I didn't realize you cared," I sighed, but continued before he could launch into some diatribe on feelings. "Mrs. Hudson is walking him." I set my laptop on the table beside me and rose.

"Hmm...boring," he said as he took his jacket off and handed it to me as I approached him.

"What is all that, and why are we going to have to buy Mrs. Hudson new dishes?" I asked as he brought the contents of the paper bag out and set them on the table.

"She was chatting with her 'suitor' earlier outside, and the tone was very tense. I noticed that the gentleman had a long red hair on his coat and I looked into the sandwich shop and saw the red-head that works there, staring intently at them."

He went silent as he went about mixing and adding liquids to the items he brought home. I looked at him inquisitively and he stopped his flurry of activities and rolled his eyes and sighed at me.

"John, I would think that you would be able to follow my deductions after living with me all this time," he looked at me, or straight through me, with his clear gray eyes, and I suddenly felt very tiny.

Then, what he had said about Mrs. Hudson clicked. It was like he could see the wheels in my head turning, because in that next instant he smiled at me, then went about his business.

"But she didn't seem distraught when she came to get Phoenix," I started to pace slowly. "She was her chirpy self."

"Hum," Sherlock now had protective glasses on. "I believe your answer will come shortly."

"Sherlock, why do you have to do experiments that require safety glasses here at the flat?" Mrs. Hudson's voice floated through the flat as I heard Phoenix's paws clicking on the floor. I turned and helped her out of her coat as she bent and took his leash off.

"Mrs. Hudson, I believe you have nothing to worry about. I will not be blowing up the flat at this time."

I threw Sherlock an exasperated look.

"Well, that's good deary," she patted the coat on her arm and looked around, as if she was taking stock of things. "Thank you for letting me walk Phoenix."

"Tedious," my flat-mate mumbled.

"Uh, you are welcome. Is everything okay?" I touched her elbow, and Mrs. Hudson looked up at me with watery eyes.

"John, you are a very sweet gentleman, and I hope you and Sherlock can find domestic happiness someday."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sherlock pop up like a groundhog and snort in derision.

"Mrs. Hudson, please understand, Sherlock and I-"

"Oh it doesn't matter, you have someone to wake up to everyday."

I could see her point, but it was the wrong point of view that she had. I lay my hand on her shoulder and decided to focus on her problem instead of correcting her.

"Come and sit. Would you like some tea?" I gestured to our couch and she nodded.

"Yes, tea would be nice!" Sherlock called from the kitchen.

Phoenix barked and sat on his haunches. From my vantage point, it looked like he was smiling at me. I put my thumb and forefinger on the bridge of my nose and sighed loudly.

"Oh, Phoenix needs a treat. He gets one every time he goes outside." I watched as Mrs. Hudson dug in her coat pocket and brought out a small dog treat. Phoenix barked and trotted over to her.

After battling for space and garnering dirty looks from Sherlock for taking his space in the kitchen, I had tea ready for all of us and sat on the couch next to our sweet landlady.

"So, what happened? You seem very distraught."

"Oh I shouldn't trouble you with my problems-"

"That's very nice of you Mrs. Hudson."

"Sherlock!" I shook my head and clenched my jaw. "It's okay, just ignore him."

She gave a small smile, and sniffed. "I was supposed to leave to go on holiday with Steven tomorrow. Well, it turns out," she paused and then broke out in sobs. I put my tea down and found something nearby for her to wipe her eyes and blow her nose. After she calmed down, she continued. "It turns out, he was just using me as an excuse to get to that, that red head that works at the cafe."

"Aha! I knew it!" Sherlock piped in.

"But how could you?" Mrs. Hudson asked.

Sherlock came into the sitting room and told Mrs. Hudson what he had observed. I decided not to add fuel to the fire and kept my observations to myself.

"Oh dear," She sighed and dabbed at her eyes. "I guess I should have known. Why would someone as charming as him, fall for me?"

"Mrs. Hudson, I think you are quite a catch-"

"Ugh, the complexities of human relationships bore me." Sherlock turned and resumed his activities in the kitchen.

"Thank you, John. You really are a kind man." She kissed me on the cheek and stood. "I should be going. I've got to find someone to take all of the pastries I made."

"We'll take them!" Again, Sherlock and his two-cents.

"Well, then they are yours." She smiled again and I walked her to the door, shaking my head in frustration at Sherlock.

"Why do you have to be so cruel to Mrs. Hudson's feelings?" I asked as I stood on the other side of the table from my flat-mate.

"I'm not being cruel," he paused and carefully added a clear substance in a dropper to a test tube that had a light bluish tint. I cocked my head in wonder at his grown-up chemistry set. He continued as he looked up at me and the corners of his mouth turned up in the self-satisfying smirk that he has. "I'm just being honest."

"I think you are hiding behind your own feelings for Ire-"

"DO NOT say that name!" He threw me a look of contempt.

"Alright, alright," I put my hands up in front of me in a gesture of surrender. I probably should have tread a little lighter with my next statement, but I was tired of seeing Sherlock mope around the flat. Fog and The Woman be damned, I was going to get him fired up about something other than criminals and...what ever it was he was doing now. "I just think you think of her more than you care to admit."

Sherlock was suddenly standing in front of me, a tight grip on my sweater and his face so close I could feel his hot breath on my nose. I held my own breath for a moment and looked him straight in the eye.

"Of course I think of her," his voice was a low grumble. I swallowed hard. "She is an enigma, and yet I unraveled her. She is the only woman, however that managed to outwit me in any amount of time. I consider myself lucky to be standing here with my wits about me because of you." He held my gaze for a moment, then let go of me and grabbed his violin and stood in front of the window. He plucked at it mercilessly as Phoenix gave a small whine and I watched the puppy trot over to him and lay with his head on Sherlock's shoe. He looked down at the pup and, if I hadn't have been looking right at him at that moment, I would have missed the small smile that played upon his lips.


	3. Chapter 3

This is only my third attempt, I believe, at first person, and I think there might be a lot of inconsistencies. Please let me know so I can fix them; I do not have a beta-reader.

So, references to the Movie versions and DoyleCannon are all over the place in this chapter. Plus, it comes on the same day as 'The Reichenbach Fall' Episode. I shall weep, because I won't be able to watch the second series until NetFilx releases it, or it shows on PBS in May! IN MAY! I can't wait! I'm so obsessed with this show, it's not even funny!

As I have said in previous chapter, I have not seen all of 'The Scandal in Belgravia'; The last thing I saw of the episode was Sherlock on his bed after returning from 'The Woman's' flat. I have seen small snippets of the rest of the episode.

Anyway, I want to thank everyone who has read this little fan-fiction. You rock!

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><p>I should have known the instant I put my book down, turned my light off and rolled over, that I would hear the sad strains of Sherlock's violin. It only took fifteen minutes this time; just as I was falling into the sleep that I so desperately craved. Ever since 'That Woman' left, he's been a worse mess than his usual. Playing his violin in the middle of the night, restless pacing around the flat. The fog only exaggerated matters .<p>

It wasn't as if Sherlock was bad at playing the violin. No, quite the contrary. But he never played when anyone else was over; he plucked and scraped his bow across the strings, like an insolent little boy, making horrible noises. However, in the middle of the night, that bow would glide over those strings like he was a trained violinist. Maybe he was, but I wouldn't know. Sherlock never shared any of his past, and what ever childhood memories he had I learned from his brother.

The song was sad and I couldn't put my finger on what it was. He had three songs that he liked to play, but this one was new, and unfamiliar. I stared out of my dirty window to the street below, listening to the muffled notes as they floated up to my room. The streetlights had an unearthly halo around them from the fog and the bitter cold that had descended upon us during the evening. It was going to snow. I could feel it in my bones.

I groaned. I was much too young to start feeling the weather in my bones. I blamed my father for that.

I groaned again. I had a decision to make. I could either pull the blankets over my head and drown out the sorrowful song, or I could get up, which meant making tea and sitting in silence with Sherlock. That in itself, I believe, was comforting to him. I knew, however, that once I rose, he would hear me and he would take to plucking in irritation. I took a deep breath and decided that getting up would probably be the best for now. I didn't have any plans for the day tomorrow, and I could sleep then. Unless a case descended upon us. Which meant I wouldn't sleep for the next couple days. How Sherlock did that and still kept his wits about him, I'll never know.

Throwing the covers off and sitting up, I rubbed my eyes and shoved my feet into my slippers. I stood and walked over to the chair where I had hung my robe, and threw that on. I could still hear the violin, and wondered if Sherlock was so in-tune with his own playing that he never heard me get up. The floors in this olde flat were creaky and loud, there was no way he didn't hear me.

I descended the stairs to our sitting room as quietly as I could, and saw the top of his head over the back of his favorite chair. He was facing the fireplace. What I finally realized was that he wasn't playing his violin. The melody was coming from an old phonograph that had stood in the corner of the flat, buried under paperwork and books. I often found myself staring at it, wondering what grand stories it had to tell. I walked over to it and it had all of it's working parts and it was playing the music extraordinarily.

"It was a present from my great-grandfather to my great-grandmother." Sherlock's voice gave me a start.

"It's very beautiful. How did you manage to get a hold of it?" I asked and as I looked it over, I found a small brass plate that had some words engraved in it.

"This used to be his flat." Sherlock answered as I rubbed the dust off the small plate. It read: 'To I.O. With all of the love in my heart. J.S.H.' Sherlock continued. "He passed it to my grandfather, who willed it to my father and he used it as a bachelor suite, a place to get away from his wife and children. Love has always been a disadvantage."

I straightened and looked at the back of Sherlock's head with a deep frown.

"Don't give me your pity." Was all he said.

I opened my mouth to say that I wasn't pitying him, but that was a lie.

I sighed. I was never sure how to deal with Sherlock's bouts of depression. I usually just went out or to my own room. He had warned me about them after all.

But this one was different. He was sharing, and I didn't want to discourage him from talking.

"You can sit, stay with me for a while," I hated that he seemed to read my mind. "And, yes, tea would be fine."

I smirked at myself as I went into the kitchen to make the tea.

I felt fairly ridiculous bringing out a tray with a teapot and cups, but I figured it would be the easiest, rather than having to get up every five minutes. I saw that Sherlock had moved his chair and scooted my chair over to sit at an angle and there was a small table between us. It wasn't until I sat the tray down on the small table that I saw that Phoenix was on his lap getting settled. I grabbed my tea cup and sat in my chair. Sherlock turned his head slightly towards me and gave me a small, knowing smile as he reached for his tea. I raised my cup in a small toast as he did the same.

"I think, John, that we need a dog." Sherlock broke the comfortable silence.

I snorted in derision. "That's funny because not two days ago you said we wouldn't be able to maintain a dog."

"Hum, true, but they seem pretty much self-sustainable." He paused. "Well, except for the walking part. Dull."

I shook my head and smiled at Sherlock's lack of common knowledge and took a sip of tea. "That's actually the point with domesticated dogs and cats. We train them to be self reliant."

"Fascinating," he scratched behind Phoenix's ears. "Why can't we train them to fill their own bowls?"

"Heh, Sherlock, that's one of the joys of owning a pet, being able to take care of another living thing."

"It's also one of everybody's biggest faults."

I watched Sherlock as he sipped his tea. His face remained stoic, but I could see a slight shake to his hand.

"She really got to you-"

"Stop. Don't." He stared into the fire.

I sighed and sat back and sipped my tea.

"Thank you."

XXX

I don't remember falling asleep and when I awoke, I was disorientated. I leaned forward and wiped my eyes. Looking around, I realized I had fallen asleep in my chair, and I had a blanket over me...Did Sherlock do that? Of course he did. Who else? But didn't he just say...

"Hello, boys?" I heard Mrs. Hudson's voice and stood and waved. "Oh good morning John."

"Ah, yes good morning," I was still feeling out of my element as I folded the blanket to keep my hands busy. Mrs. Hudson went into our kitchen and busied herself there.

"What is all of this?" I saw her gesture to Sherlock's experiment on the kitchen table.

Speaking of, where was Sherlock?

"I'm not sure, Mrs. Hudson," I answered as I cleaned up our tea and walked to the sink. "But it's been keeping him busy."

"Where is the man anyway?" She asked as she opened the icebox.

"I'm not sure," I turned to see her immediately close the door and shake her head.

"Oh dear." She paused. "It looks like you boys need some milk and other necessities. I'm going to the market, I can pick you up some."

"Oh, Mrs. Hudson, you don't have to do that."

"I don't mind," She smiled warmly. "I like taking care of you boys. Oh, look at that!"

She had started out of the kitchen when the phonograph caught her eye. She walked over to it and carefully wiped some of the dust off.

"Hand me that towel would you John?"

I walked to her and gave her the dish towel in my hand. She gently wiped off the thicker layers of dust.

"This ol' thing has been in Sherlock's family for years."

"He told me that his great-grandfather had given it to his great-grandmother, but that's all."

"Oh that silly man. He really does know how to downplay things when he wants to."

I kept my comments to myself. She had been living with Sherlock longer than I had.

Underneath the actual phonograph was a compartment that I had missed in the dim light last night, and now, Mrs. Hudson was in there going through the records.

"Here it is!" She pulled out one of the records, then gingerly took the other record off and handed it to me. I read the label, 'Sonata no.1 in G minor - Fugue – Bach', and my heart lurched for a second, remembering the sad strains of the violin that echoed through our flat last evening.

"Sherlock's great-grandfather did give this as a gift, but not to his great-grandmother." She started as she placed the record that I handed to her back in the compartment. She then pointed to the brass plate as the first notes of 'Die Forelle' filled the room. "It was to a beautiful woman by the name of Irene Ormstein. He first heard her sing in Italy, then followed her career to Warsaw. Oh, he was obsessed. It started straining his marriage and family. Anyway, he showered her with gifts, but she refused him, saying that she was going to marry the King of Bohemia! He decided to take matters into his own hands. He disguised himself and attended their engagement party, which was held in Reichenbach Castle. He confronted her and she was so tired of his pursuits, that she threatened suicide. As she stood on the ledge, her future husband walked out on the balcony and went into a panic. He ran towards her, but didn't reach her in time. They watched as she faded into the white foamy falls." She sighed. "His wife bought this flat for him to live in so he would have a roof over his head when the children came to visit, and had this brought here. Then she drew divorce papers. He died some months later of consumption or some such disease."

Her tale lasted as long as the song did, and for some reason it set the tone for the story. It gave me goosebumps.

"How do you know all of this?"

"This building has been passed through my family for a while now." She made a long sweeping gesture. "And Sherlock is the fourth in a line of Holmes's to live in this flat. He is the first one to take Sherlock as a first name, however. His great-grandfather went by Jonathan Sherlock Holmes."

"Huh," Was the only thing I could articulate. "That's quite-"

"Please don't say romantic or I might have to slap you." Sherlock strolled in, taking his gloves off and gesturing to the phonograph, with Phoenix on his heels. "I knew I should have put that away before I left."

"Phoenix, ol' boy!" Mrs. Hudson brightened as she bent to greet the pup. "Are you excited to go back home today?"

Sherlock stopped mid-stride to the kitchen, turned on his heel and walked back to Mrs. Hudson. "He has to go back today?"

"Well, yes," Mrs. Hudson threw a confused look up at Sherlock. "My sister is back from her holiday, she's going to want to see Phoenix as soon as possible."

"I see," Sherlock pursed his lips. "What time is this going to take place?"

"I have to pack a bag because I'm going to spend the night out there, so I probably won't leave until three this afternoon."

"Did you just walk Phoenix?"

"Yes, John, why else would I come bounding into our flat at - " he paused and looked at his watch. "Eight-thirty in the morning? Hmm...just enough time too. Did you have a good sleep?"

I blinked, several times. His state of mind had improved ten-fold from the previous evening.

"Yes, thank you."

I suddenly found myself standing alone in the middle of the sitting room. Mrs. Hudson had quietly excused herself; Sherlock immersed himself into what ever it was he was doing in the kitchen, and Phoenix had retired onto my chair. I stood for a tick, and decided to put away the phonograph.

"I suppose Mrs. Hudson told you the sweeping love story of my great-grandfather and my namesake?" Sherlock's voice carried into the sitting room as I placed the phonograph in the corner where it had come from.

"Er, yes, she did. Quite horrible I should say." I said walking into the kitchen. My flatmate had both jackets off and the sleeves on his purple shirt rolled up. With the safety goggles on, he looked like a mad scientist, which, I suppose was close to the truth.

"The trials and tribulations of love are not matter to me. I am glad, however to have this flat. Aren't you?" He winked at me from behind his goggles.

I gave him a small smile and turned to go and get ready for the day. I was glad to have the flat, but I'm not sure if it was worth the blood that was spilled for it.

XXX

After returning from running errands, I found that the fog had lifted, but grey skies and a bitter cold had replaced it. It also explained Sherlock's mood.

I really shouldn't have been surprised, then, when I walked into the flat that he, the pup, was laying, stiff legged on the floor. Sherlock was staring blank-faced out of a frosty window, plucking away at his violin.

I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes for a brief moment.

"Sherlock, what have you done to the dog?"

"Oh, hello boys! I'm glad you – ack!" Mrs. Hudson's statement ended in a high pitched screech. As I had turned to stop her from entering the flat, Phoenix had come into her view. I gently grabbed her arms as her lip trembled.

"Mrs. Hudson, I'm sure everything is fine."

"Just as I thought you two would react." Sherlock said between plucks.

"Sherlock!" Mrs. Hudson was on the verge of hysterics. Couldn't say I blame her.

"Just let me look at the pup," I put on my most soothing voice. "Knowing Sherlock, there's something else going on."

She sniffed and nodded at me. I let go of the breath I didn't realize I was holding. I patted her on her arm and turned and kneeled next to Phoenix. I put two fingers along his neck where I thought there should be a pulse and felt around.

I shook my head and pursed my lips.

"He'll be fine Mrs. Hudson." I stated as I watched the relief fill her body.

"Oh, thank the stars!"

Just then Phoenix took a deep breath and whimpered, then moved his legs. He sat up and panted, looking like nothing happened. I shook my head again and scratched him behind his ears.

"See, good as new!" I hadn't noticed Sherlock standing beside me. I looked up at him and he flashed me one of his snarky grins just as Mrs. Hudson smacked him on his arm.

"Sherlock Holmes!" She cried then knelt and coddled Phoenix. "I can't believe you would do such a thing to this darling animal!"

"It was completely harmless," he raised an eyebrow and turned and grabbed my laptop. I rolled my eyes and groaned. He turned the laptop to us and pointed at the page that was up on the screen. "See, it's a perfectly harmless chemical that I've been experimenting with."

"Sherlock, this is why we can't have a dog."

"I made sure that it was perfectly harmless. I read all the results and the forums, which were dull by the way, and they all said it was a temporary paralytic. But the case that inspired it was terribly interesting. A Lord Blackbird faked his own death and haunted the government from his grave, which he broke out from. All terribly fascinating. I say he got a good nap, though." Sherlock gestured at the pup. Mrs. Hudson and I were staring at him like he had a third head. He rolled his eyes. "Oh bother..." He grunted and scooped Phoenix into his arms and he settled contentedly.

"See, he's good as new!"

Then Phoenix barked and licked Sherlock's face.

My flatmate held him at arms length as I and our landlady chuckled at him.

"Nope, you are right John, no dogs."


End file.
